Precious
by Liete
Summary: -US/UK, delinquent AU- 'He's not fragile, and he'd probably break the nose of anyone who would even suggest such a thing. Even so, he finds he doesn't mind, even likes, the way Alfred handles him.'


**Precious  
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**By: Liete**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia or any of the characters portrayed.**

**A/N: Yeah, I've pretty much given up and I'll be continuing to write for this AU until I get burnt out on it. I'll be adding that it's part of the delinquent AU in the summaries from now on!****  
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"Superman or Green Lantern ain't got…a-nothin' on me. I can make like a turtle and dive for…your pearls in the sea!"

Arthur looks up from his cup of tea to where Alfred is washing the dishes, or rather he was washing the dishes, but he's now singing into the spray nozzle like it's a microphone and dancing to a tune only he can hear. He looks utterly ridiculous, although it's clear he's enjoying himself. Then he turns to face Arthur and winks at him as he continues to sing. Arthur stares back placidly, unimpressed.

"A you you you can just sit there a-thinking on your velvet throne…'bout all the rainbows a-you can…a-have for your own," Alfred sings emphatically and throws his finger out to point at Arthur.

"When you've made your mind up forever to be mine!" he finishes singing and smiles brightly at Arthur.

"Are you finished?" Arthur asks flatly and drinks what is left of his tea. Alfred deflates and turns back, dejected, to the pile of dishes.

"Sorry," he mumbles and scrubs at a plate with steel wool.

Arthur squares his jaw and stares guiltily at Alfred's back. He hadn't meant to hurt the boy's feelings, but really, his display was ridiculous. Now instead of cheerfully washing the dishes like he always does, his shoulders are slumped and the moves are sluggish. So childish of him to be so upset over something so small, but in a way it's more than just a little something. It's Arthur throwing Alfred's feelings back into his face instead of reciprocating.

He picks up his teacup and its saucer and makes his way to the sink next to Alfred. Alfred stiffens as Arthur places the dishes into the sink next to the other dirty plates and cups, but relaxes when Arthur kisses his neck in apology, because like many things, he can't actually _say_ it.

But Alfred understands and smiles over at Arthur before he resumes his previous activities with renewed energy. Arthur watches him in a much more comfortable silence until he clears his throat and speaks up.

"The next line in that song is 'I'll pick up your hand and slowly blow your little mind', is it not?"

The cup Alfred is washing clinks against the bottom of the sink as he drops it. His cheeks turn red and he averts his face.

"Do you…want to?" Alfred asks hesitantly as he withdraws his hands from the soapy water and turns off the faucet.

He always wants Alfred, so that question is ridiculous and the answer should be obvious, and it's even more ridiculous that Alfred is so shy about it, but Arthur nods regardless. Alfred quickly wipes his hands on a towel just in time to be pulled in for a kiss. He hums in contentment as Arthur removes his glasses, then pulls him backwards out of the kitchen and towards their bedroom. Once there they break apart and Alfred starts to settle himself back against the bed, but Arthur shakes his head and crawls on top of Alfred to kiss him, then in a swift movement flips them over so Alfred is on top. Alfred looks bewildered for a moment, but it's quickly replaced by understanding.

Thus begins Alfred's always drawn out and gentle foreplay.

Arthur settles his head back amidst their pillows after Alfred pulls his t-shirt over his head and starts kissing his chest, then he cards his fingers in Alfred's wheat colored hair. While he'd always thought that he'd never get enough of touching Alfred all over, even Alfred gives him a run for his money with the way he always insists on kissing and touching Arthur almost everywhere when he's the one on top.

He has scars all over his body, which he would think would make him not very attractive, but it never seems to bother Alfred. Even so, Arthur went and got a few tattoos to cover up the most pronounced of his scars, so that when Alfred touches him there, he'll only be aware of some very impressive inkings instead of unsightly souvenirs from days he hopes are long past.

As usual, despite Arthur's doubts, Alfred kisses his body almost reverently and Arthur shivers at the attentions. He's not fragile, and he'd probably break the nose of anyone who would even suggest such a thing. Even so, he finds he doesn't mind, even likes, the way Alfred handles him. Gently, carefully, like he'll break if Alfred is too rough. Before Arthur would have said that he would have rather liked to be fucked quickly and roughly, his wellbeing be damned, but now he can't deny that he much prefers Alfred's slow lovemaking. It's nice to be treated like he's important, instead of something to be kicked around and then discarded.

Alfred's fingers and mouth make their way to Arthur's side, where one of his scar concealing tattoos lies and Arthur is a bit troubled when Alfred lingers there, tracing the raised skin that even a highly detailed Telecaster can't hide. In a panic, Arthur grabs Alfred's hand and rocks his still clothed hips up against Alfred's. It's enough to elicit a hiss from Alfred and he lifts his head to stare questioningly at Arthur.

"Too slow," Arthur grumbles. Alfred just smiles and kisses Arthur's nose.

"Too impatient," he teases and then moves to kiss Arthur's jaw line. Arthur tilts his chin up as Alfred starts gently kissing his neck. Better his neck than where he'd been before, he thinks, but most of his rational thought processes are abandoned as Alfred's hands make their way to Arthur's trousers and start fumbling with the buttons and zipper there. Meanwhile Arthur reaches up to remove Alfred's button up shirt and push it off his shoulders. Alfred pulls it off and tosses it to the side, then gives Arthur a brief heated look before he pulls him up into his arms so he can pull off Arthur's trousers. Arthur shivers appreciatively at the feeling of Alfred's bare chest against his own and even more so at the loss of his trousers so he can grind his hips against Alfred's. Alfred bites his lip and gently pushes Arthur back down, ignoring the scowl he gets for his trouble.

Alfred makes quick work of his own jeans, then he reaches over and fumbles in the nightstand on Arthur's side of the bed. He finds the box and bottle he seeks, then bends over to kiss Arthur deeply. It's to hide how clumsy he'll be in these next moments, Arthur knows. He won't ever say it, but he finds it endearing how very clumsy Alfred is about sex, even if it means he'll sometimes forget to warm up the lubricant first or he'll tear a few condoms before he properly puts one on. This is one of the only times Arthur feels as though there's no distance between he and Alfred, just Alfred loving him despite all his faults and Arthur loving him in return, shown in actions he can't express in words.

Arthur furrows his brow as Alfred's fingers move a bit harshly inside him, but then Alfred's free hand reaches up to stroke Arthur's cheek in apology and Arthur is mollified. After a few more awkward minutes, Alfred withdraws his hand and reaches for the box at his side. While Alfred fumbles with the condom, Arthur hoists his legs up to rest on Alfred's shoulders, earning a raised eyebrow from the younger boy that Arthur answers with a smug grin. Any sarcastic remarks from either of them are repressed as Alfred pulls Arthur's hips forward.

"Alfred," Arthur breathes out as Alfred pushes into him, going as deep as he can. Alfred's cheek flush in color at the sound of his name coming from Arthur's lips and he forgets himself for a moment, jerking his hips in a fashion that makes Arthur gasp. He won't ever plead, but he does reach his arms around Alfred, pulling him forward and digging his nails in his back in a silent demand for Alfred to go faster.

Alfred won't, though, and he doesn't. He always goes slow when he makes love to Arthur, drawing it out as long as possible and inadvertently driving Arthur absolutely mad. But he enjoys it, just as he enjoys Alfred's slow foreplay. He likes being treated gently and, as infrequently as Alfred is on top, he savors every moment. Alfred's labored breathing, the way sweat glistens on his skin as he moves within Arthur, how Arthur will never be able to get enough of this person no matter how very vanilla their sex is.

Alfred reaches between them and starts jerking Arthur off in quick movements and Arthur arches against Alfred's touch. For how sedate Alfred's pace is, it's over too soon and Arthur's blinking away the spots dotting his vision until he's staring up into blue eyes that watch him with utter adoration.

"Love you," Alfred murmurs as he kisses Arthur gently and then reaches for some tissues to clean the sticky mess off Arthur's stomach.

Arthur grumbles slightly, but lets Alfred do as he pleases, because shortly after Alfred drapes himself half on top of Arthur and half on the bed, leaning forward to snuggle his face into Arthur's neck where he presses another kiss.

_I love you_, he thinks as he reaches an arm around Alfred and threads his fingers into his hair, but as usual he can't say it, especially since by the time he gathers up the nerve to even begin to try, Alfred's breathing is slow and even as that of sleep. So instead Arthur presses his lips to Alfred's forehead and closes his eyes, wishing that things could always be this natural between them as he drifts off to sleep as well.


End file.
